


Draco Malfoy and the House-Elf T.E.M.P. Agency

by UnseenLibrarian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred Lives, HP: EWE, House-elf rights, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnseenLibrarian/pseuds/UnseenLibrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry has seized the entire Malfoy fortune, and Hermione Granger has freed all the house-elves. However, Draco Malfoy's not going to those pesky little details stop him from living in the manner to which he's been accustomed. <i>Originally written for Round 5 of the Dramione Duet challenge at LiveJournal.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Draco Malfoy and the House-Elf T.E.M.P. Agency

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. All fics posted at this community were written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **Warnings:** This story essentially follows book-canon to the end of the Final Battle, with the exception that Fred Weasley lives (and has a small role in this story). I just cannot accept his death.
> 
>  **Author's Note(s):** Thank you to all of my helpful alphas and betas, especially withdrawnred, for all of your advice, suggestions, and error-catching. I did make adjustments and tweaks after beta. Any and all mistakes that remain are most definitely my own.

  
**_  
DAILY PROPHET, MAY 2, 1998:_**  
DING, DONG, VOLDEMORT'S DEAD!  
Harry Potter Victorious -  
The Wizarding World is Free!

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 10, 1998:_**  
DEATH EATER TRIALS BEGIN!  
New Wizengamot to try Death Eaters  
and Voldemort Sympathizers

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 16, 1998:_**  
ALL KNOWN DEATH EATERS' GRINGOTTS VAULT CONTENTS SEIZED  
Reparations Sought for War Victims

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 25, 1998:_**  
MALFOY TRIAL UNDERWAY  
Revealed: Malfoy Manor was Voldemort's Headquarters  
Malfoy Properties and Monies Confiscated  
Family's House-Elves Held for Questioning

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 26, 1998:_  **  
GOLDEN TRIO TESTIFIES AT MALFOY TRIAL  
Harry Potter Affirms Under Oath:  
Narcissa and Draco Malfoy Aided Him and His Friends

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 29, 1998:_  **  
NARCISSA AND DRACO MALFOY FOUND NOT GUILTY  
LUCIUS MALFOY SENTENCED TO THREE YEARS IN AZKABAN  
Malfoy Properties, Servants, and Assets to Remain in Ministry's Possession

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, JUNE 5, 1998:_**  
NEWEST MEMBERS OF THE ORDER OF MERLIN SPEAK:  
Potter Establishes War Orphan Fund  
Weasley Commissions War Heroes Memorial  
Longbottom Funds St. Mungo's Spell Damage Research  
Granger Vows to Free All House-Elves

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, MAY 3, 1999:_**  
HOUSE-ELF RIGHTS LAW (H.E.R.L.) PASSES  
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY  
All House-Elves are Free  
Elves are to be Paid, Given Holidays

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, May 20, 1999:_**  
REPORT FROM MAGICAL CREATURES DEPT, BEINGS DIVISION:  
S.P.E.W. Office Counseling Record Number of House-Elves  
Offers Seminars on Life Skills, Money Management

 

**_DAILY PROPHET, JUNE 5, 1999:_**  
MYSTERIOUS BUTTERBEER SHORTAGE CONTINUES

  
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
**JUNE 5, 1999**  
  
" _'Mysterious'_  Butterbeer shortage? Bloody hell, Granger, I can't believe you're that thick," muttered Draco. He crumpled the newspaper into a ball and threw it haphazardly over his shoulder toward the fire grate. When he turned, his foot kicked it across the room. He cursed – normally one of the Malfoy House-elves would have Vanished it for him as a matter of course. Would he ever get used to having to pick up his own trash?   
  
With a great sigh, he retrieved the wadded-up paper and, aiming carefully this time, tossed it into the fireplace. He sorely missed his loyal house-elves, Thingie and Doodad. They'd been excellent servants, yes, but for most of the time he'd lived in Voldemort's shadow, they'd been his only real friends. When they'd been yanked away from him, along with everything that made the Malfoy name worth anything, over a year ago, he'd felt his heart tear in two. He loved the little blighters.   
  
Now, he was forced to live in this, this  _hovel_  with his mother and an aunt he'd never known, along with his baby cousin Teddy. God, he missed the Manor, hellhole that it had become. At least there, he'd had personal space and breathing room. He shuddered as he looked around the tiny lounge, which was littered with baby toys.  _I haven't got two Galleons to rub together, and most of my so-called friends are under house arrest or in prison. Bloody hell, I'm going to be spending my nineteenth birthday with two hovering mothering types and a drooling ankle-biter. Fecking brilliant._  
  
A crackling  _WHOOSH_  sounded from the fireplace, indicating an incoming Floo call. "Draco Malfoy?" called out a voice. Draco scowled. He recognized that voice. He'd heard it often enough in his life. It was fairly cultured, a bit lofty, with a hint of condescension, especially when it was offering advice or assistance. It was the voice that had taken his elves away.  
  
"Yes, Granger. Who else would it be?"  
  
Granger sighed in exasperation, sending sparks flying through the air. Draco smirked. He rather liked seeing her hot under the collar. It served the bint right, taking away his servants the way she had.  
  
"Thingie and Doodad are here with me, Malfoy. They'd like to pay you a birthday visit."  
  
"Oh? Why didn't they just come to see me themselves?"  
  
"You know perfectly well that all former Death Eater family house-elves are only allowed supervised visitation with their former masters for a period of six to twelve months after their liberation," Granger intoned.   
  
He waved her off impatiently. "Yes, yes, I know,  _I know._  Just come on through."   
  
He took a generous pinch of Floo powder from the container on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire. His aunt came into the lounge with Teddy just as Hermione Granger  _and_  Harry Potter stepped through onto the hearth, each holding an elf's hand. Draco didn't have time to scowl at Potter's unannounced appearance before the two house-elves squealed and launched themselves into his arms, their shrill cries of "Master Draco! Master Draco! We misses you, we misses you so much!" filling the room.   
  
Draco fell back onto the nearby sofa, flattening a hapless teddy bear that got lodged under his bum, and hugged the two elves tightly. "Easy, now, Thingie," he said, laughing for the first time in ages. "I've missed you, too, Doodad!" The elves, who were sister and brother, gabbled at him, interrupting each other in their desire to talk to their former master. It was wonderful. As he stared into their big, luminescent brown eyes, he felt an ache in his chest. He'd missed them, and he'd missed their friendship. He'd missed being  _liked._  
  
He was too caught up in the moment to acknowledge the identical expressions of bemused incredulity pasted on Granger and Potter's faces. A moment or two later, his mother came out of the kitchen bearing a tray of tea and cakes. Thingie leapt out of Draco's lap, crying out that "Missus shouldn't be having to do that!" and using her own magic to levitate the tray out of her former Mistress's hands. As she carefully brought the tray laden with treats to the small coffee table, her brother Doodad snapped his fingers, causing a large lemon and vanilla cake to appear out of mid-air right next to Potter's head. Potter leapt backwards, nearly upsetting a floor lamp, while Teddy giggled and laughed at his godfather's reaction. Draco rolled his eyes.   
  
"We made this cake for you, Master Draco!" Doodad said proudly, as he let it float gently down to rest beside the tea tray. "We knows it's being your favorite."  
  
"Happy Birthday!" said both elves, together. Draco blinked rapidly, trying desperately to keep tears from falling. How he missed them. If it weren't for that damned law.  
  
"This looks delicious! Thank you, Thingie and Doodad. I've missed your cakes and sweets." He looked up at his mother. "Shall we pass it all around?"  
  
Soon, everyone was enjoying a slice of lemon vanilla cake and tea. It was almost, though Draco hated to admit it, pleasant. It was only when Granger stood up after finishing her refreshments that his mood rapidly darkened again.  
  
"Thingie and Doodad, it's time for us to leave," she said, fidgeting uncomfortably with her wand.   
  
Draco rose reluctantly. Thingie and Doodad wailed, both of them clinging to him. Draco gently tried to extricate himself from their clutching hands, but did not have much success.  
  
"Thank you for escorting my friends to see me, Granger," he muttered. He cleared his throat. "It was nice to be able to see them on my birthday."   
  
"Wait, I have something for you, Malfoy," said Potter, who began to rummage through the pockets of his Auror's robe.  _Stupid messy-haired git, he never seems to be organised. How did he ever manage to survive out there in the wild?_    
  
"It's in your sleeve, Harry. You put it there to be sure to remember - remember?" Granger said this with such a warm, loving tone in her voice that Draco stared at her. A strange, envious feeling formed in his chest. He'd not heard such affection directed at himself - other than from his mother - in his entire life. The young men he'd chummed with were above such obvious friendliness, and the girls had never been warm and friendly, just cloying and simpering. He'd gotten some totty and favours, certainly, but he'd never had a close confidant or chum. Except for his parents, Thingie, and Doodad, all his other relationships had been built on politics and power.  
  
"Oh yeah! Thanks, Hermione. What would I do without you?" Potter said with a grin. He took something from his sleeve and turned to Draco, who now just wanted everyone out of his presence.   
  
"What is it, Potter?" he asked half-heartedly.   
  
"This belongs to you," Potter said. He held out a wand.  _Draco's_  wand. "I meant to return it before now," he apologized, "but with Auror training and one thing after another, I kept forgetting to bring it with me when I visited." He flourished his own wand. "But I'd fixed mine with the Elder Wand, and I know how it feels not to be able to use your own wand."   
  
Draco took it from him, speechless. It really was his hawthorn wand, and it sparkled with multicoloured light as he grasped it firmly. He felt a thrill run up his arm.   
  
"Happy Birthday, Draco," said Potter, grinning. He bobbed his chin. "It seems happy to be back with you." Draco raised a questioning eyebrow. "You know they form allegiances– well, yeah, of course you do," Potter muttered. "Anyway, it worked well for me after I, um, acquired it, but I'm glad it remembers you. You probably won't be able to use it against me anytime soon," he said with a wink, "But it should work as well for you as it did before I borrowed it."  
  
Draco said, gruffly, "Yes. Well. It was a rather extended loan period, wasn't it. I've been without a wand since, since that day." He still couldn't talk about that awful, horrible time. "Thank you, Potter."   
  
Potter nodded and looked at Granger, who was gazing at Draco's wand rather forlornly. For the first time, Draco noticed that the wand she held was, in fact, his late Aunt Bellatrix's. There was no mistaking it: the bent form, its dark nature - it was rumoured to be as insane and twisted as its original owner. Granger fiddled with it, obviously ill at ease. Had she been using it all this time? Why hadn't she bought a new one?   
  
Ollivander had only recently felt well enough to start making wands again. His health had been severely affected by his long captivity and torture under Voldemort's rule. He'd taken on an apprentice in order to pass on as much wand lore as he could before he finally retired. However, apprentices could only learn so fast, and the shortage of wands in the wizarding world was great. Unless you wanted to use a foreign wand maker, you had to wait. Still, shouldn't Granger have gotten preferential treatment?   
  
"Merlin, Granger, why are you still using my Aunt Bellatrix's wand of horror?" he asked in a deceptively bored tone. He saw both his mother and his Aunt Andromeda flinch visibly.  
  
Granger turned pale, and stammered, "Oh! Well, mine was lost, wasn't it, that day at Malfoy Manor!" She waved the crooked wand angrily. "I had to make do with what we had."  
  
"But surely you could have gotten a new wand by now, what with your status and connections," Draco said, crossing his arms.   
  
"I suppose I could, but I won't jump the queue. I won't use my position for self-gain," Granger said with a defiant lift of her chin. "I'm on Ollivander's list. I'll get a new wand, eventually." She looked wistfully again at the hawthorn wand in Draco's hand. "I'm glad you have yours back." She hesitated, and then asked quietly, "Malfoy, you didn't by any chance happen to find my wand in your house? After, uh, after everything was over?"  
  
Draco didn't speak for a moment, taking in her pale, almost-desperate expression. Finally he said, "No, Granger. I didn't."  
  
Granger deflated, her hand tightening on Bellatrix's wand, but she quickly straightened up and looked around. "Where are Thingie and Doodad?"   
  
The elves had seemingly disappeared. It wasn't until Teddy toddled over to the sofa and tried to crawl underneath that they were discovered. They were trying to hide from Missy Granger and Mister Potter.  
  
"Please lets us stay!" whinged Thingie, bursting into tears. Doodad wept too. "We aren't bad elves! Don't asks us to leave!"   
  
Draco knelt down in front of them. "You know why you can't stay, Thingie and Doodad," he said in what he hoped was a calm voice. "You are free elves, now, and can choose your own lives."   
  
Doodad wailed, "We choose to be with you, Master Draco!"  
  
Draco swallowed the big lump that had formed in his throat. He glared up at Granger as he said, "I'd choose to have you with me, too. But the law says all house-elves of former Death Eaters have to stay away from their former masters and families for a year."   
  
The house-elves' renewed wails upon hearing this news rattled the windowpanes, and Granger looked uncomfortable.  _Good, you cow,_ he thought.  _See what you've done?_  "It's not forever, though. I promise." He paused, looking pained. "When I get a  _job_ , and can pay your wages, you'll be able to return." He spied movement from the corner of his eye. When he looked up, he was startled. Granger was wiping tears from her cheeks as she watched him try to comfort his friends.  
  
She spoke to the elves in a too-bright voice. "It's only for six months more, and by then Malfoy will have found employment and you can come work for him properly!" The elves just looked at her as if she were an ugly gewgaw gifted by Great Aunt Lulubell. They seemed to be pondering just how bad would it be if they dropped it while dusting - would the mistress be upset, or would she be secretly glad that the hideous thing was finally gone?  
  
"But... but..." started Doodad.  
  
"But Master Draco doesn't have to work!" cried Thingie. "He's a gentleman! He need not work ever!"   
  
Draco barked a wry laugh. "That's the way it once was, Thingie. You forget, I'm no longer a man of means." He scowled. "But I  _will_  find work, and I  _will_  hire you back," he said with conviction.   
  
He turned to Granger and indicated the elves and their tear-stained faces. "Are you managing the stress of having the wizarding world's entire population of house-elves camping out in your office?"   
  
Hermione's face tightened. "It's all going well, thank you very much," she said with a huff. "It's nothing we can't handle."  
  
"But of course. Well, then. Don't let me detain you. You must be terribly busy saving the world. It was good of you to take the time to bring Thingie and Doodad to see me." He took up the box of Floo Powder and held it out. "Who's leaving first?"  
  
He gave the house-elves one last hug each, promising them that six months would fly by faster than the latest Quidditch racing broom, and then Potter, the elves, and finally Granger, all left the little cottage via the Floo.  
  
Teddy began to whimper and Aunt Andromeda took him out of the room, presumably to lay him down for a nap. Narcissa re-entered the lounge a moment later. "Well then, darling. That was unexpected." Draco nodded absently, still standing near the fireplace.   
  
 _Oh, Granger, you supposedly brilliant Muggle-born witch. You obviously care about the house-elves, but you're going about things all wrong. When are you going to realize you don't know all there is to know about the ways of the magical world?_  
  
He watched his mother pull out a long-familiar wand and tidy the lounge with several housecleaning spells. Technically, Draco hadn't lied, for he hadn't been the one to find it. Before the Manor had been confiscated by the Ministry, his mother had discovered Granger's vine wood wand where it had rolled into a neglected corner of the drawing room. Since it was the only wand the three Malfoys had had between them, she'd kept it for her own use. But now, knowing what he knew, shouldn't he be finding a way to get that wand back to Granger?  
  
"Mother? I think I've got an idea."  
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
**OCTOBER 30, 1999**  
  
Hermione Granger was vexed.  
  
First, she'd nearly Splinched herself as she'd Apparated to The Burrow. She usually avoided Apparition these days, since Bellatrix's wand clearly didn't like her, but she'd been running late. Then, she'd walked into The Burrow fully expecting the chaos that was a Weasley Birthday Party, but had found a celebration bigger than she'd ever witnessed.  
  
There were nearly a hundred people in attendance. Tables were laden with goodies, drinks seemed to be pouring freely into every glass, and there amongst the guests darted several house-elves, all very busy and apparently having the time of their lives.  
  
Hermione stopped one of them. It was Doodad, Draco Malfoy's former servant. She asked him what was going on.  
  
"We's been hired, Miss," said Doodad, bowing low.  
  
"Hired?" she asked suspiciously. She didn't think the Weasleys would ever hire house-elves. "Hired by whom?" she asked.  
  
"The two Wheezies who look alike," said the house-elf, this time bobbing a curtsey. The bow hadn't seemed to work, after all. He looked imploringly at Hermione. "Please, Missy Granger, I's be needing to refill the veggie platters." He darted away.  
  
Astonished, Hermione watched him go. He'd been so eager to be working so hard to please. Hermione contemplated this as she looked for "the look-alike Wheezies."  
  
She spied them putting the moves on Luna and her new boyfriend, Rolf. Normally, Hermione would have allowed the mental vision this created to have more free rein, but she needed to get to the bottom of the house-elf conundrum. After all, she'd been spending hours and hours of her free time counselling the ungrateful– er, poor little creatures – on how to feel good about themselves for finally being liberated. It irked her to no end that what house-elves apparently wanted most of all in the world to do was to serve wizards and witches. She couldn't comprehend it. Why would anyone want to debase themselves when they had the world at their feet?   
  
Fred and George turned as one being when Hermione cleared her throat. Luna and Rolf disappeared from view so quickly one might think they'd borrowed Harry's Invisibility Cloak.  
  
"Hi, Herms!" said Fred.  
  
"S'up, Granger?" asked George, playfully elbowing her in the ribs. "Have you decided to start dating Ron again?"  
  
"He's broken things off with Susan, you know," added Fred.  
  
"No, I haven't, and don't ask again. Ron and I are  _just friends_ , thank you," she muttered, pushing George's elbow aside. She wasn't about to discuss her love life with the Weasley twins.  
  
"There are house-elves here," she said to change the topic, looking around the room pointedly. Fred and George nodded.  
  
"Yes. Three of them, in fact," George replied.  
  
"Whoozit, Thingie, and Doodad." Fred helpfully supplied their names.  
  
"We hired them to help with Mum's party," continued George, cutting off Hermione's next question.  
  
Fred whipped a business card out of his robe's pocket and gave it to her. It was unassuming, cream-coloured card stock, with just a hint of gold leaf filigree to make it not-boring. Hermione read it.  
  


_  
Are you in need of a house-elf's expertise?  
Are you a house-elf seeking someone to serve?  
Then look no further! The House-Elf T.E.M.P. Agency will fulfill your placement needs!  
Low rates, high satisfaction guaranteed.   
Send your Owl Post to H.E.T.E.M.P.  
Office located above Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour_

  
  
A temporary employment agency for house-elves? Why hadn't her office heard about it? It would be a wonderful resource to tell the elves about when they came in whinging, er, concerned that they weren't finding work. Hermione flapped the card idly back and forth in her hand. It's time I found out more about this temp agency, she decided.   
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
**NOVEMBER 5, 1999**  
  
 _Dearest Pansy,_  wrote Draco.  _I believe you'll find that Winky's services are exactly the sort you are looking for in a house-elf. She's considerate, keen, quick, and competent. I assure you, you will have no complaints. The fee for her services at your event is twenty Galleons, payable upon conclusion of your engagement party festivities._  
  
 _That ought to satisfy even Parkinson's impossible demands_ , he thought, as he sealed the envelope and sent it away with an owl for delivery. He stuck his quill back into the ink pot and leaned back, smiling beatifically. He was seated at a maple desk in an office that was decorated like a large, cosy living room. There was a hubbub of activity around him, as several house elves were busy filing papers, shining shoes and cutlery, and sorting mail.   
  
He'd come a long way in just under six months, and he had Hermione Granger to thank for it. The visit with his house-elves on his birthday that she'd supervised had been the catalyst for his current success.   
  
The House-Elf T.E.M.P. Agency was thriving, if he did say so himself. He'd borrowed money, called in some favours, and had (almost!) offered to marry one of the Fortesque heirs in order to be allowed to rent the empty flat above the ice cream parlour. He'd hung up a small sign over the outside entrance, and business had begun.  
  
His idea was simple. All house-elves had been freed, so wizarding households that had relied on house-elves for centuries now no longer had servants. House-elves had to be paid for their work, but since the war had ended, most of the old, pure-blood wizarding households were so destitute they couldn't afford to pay their former slaves a constant wage. However, they were still expected to throw events, parties, and galas as they had before. Who could help them at such times? Why, their former house-elves, who, unfortunately, were not good at planning out their day to day lives without guidance.  
  
Most house-elves these days were found sozzled to the gills in back alleys and doorways, or under tables at the Leaky Cauldron and The Hogs' Head in Hogsmeade, tipply out of their tiny minds on Butterbeer. He glanced over at the smallest house-elf present. It was Winky, the former house-elf servant of the mighty Crouch family. The poor thing had been set free that night of the World Cup so many years ago. She hadn't been sober since.   
  
Not until the appearance of the House-Elf T.E.M.P. Agency, that is.  
  
"Shortage of Butterbeer, me arse. No mysteries there, folks," Draco snorted. He folded the latest edition of the  _Daily Prophet_  into a paper airplane, sending it soaring into the fireplace with a flick of his wand. Ahhh, his wand. He stroked it lovingly. He was so bloody pleased to have it back.   
  
A sudden rap at the door interrupted his musings.   
  
"Come in, we're open," Draco called out. He twirled around in his chair lazily, stopping dead when he saw Hermione Granger enter the room.   
  
He was careful not to let his surprise show. Damn it. Granger meant the Ministry, and from then on you got nothing but trouble. "Hello, Granger," he drawled.   
  
Granger's own surprise was more obvious. "Malfoy! What are you doing here?" she demanded.  
  
Draco pointedly looked around at the little office, which was still bustling with activity. "Well, Granger," he said after a significant pause. "Not that it is any business of yours, but it appears that I'm doing a service for the good house-elves of our world."  
  
"It very well is my business, thank you very much," she huffed. "I'm here as an official of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and I demand to know what you are running here. Why hasn't my office heard about your elf employment agency?"   
  
Frazzled, she gestured haphazardly with her wand. The house-elves shrank back, afraid it might accidentally go off. Draco noticed it was still his mad Aunt Bella's twisted wand. She still hadn't replaced it? Merlin's beard, it was going to drive her mad herself if she didn't get rid of it soon.  
  
"I have it on good authority that you hired three elves out to the Weasley family for a birthday party. Do you deny that two of those elves were your former  _slaves_ , Thingie and Doodad, with whom you were expressly forbidden to have contact until the month of December?"  
  
"Bloody hell, Granger, I'm not running a prostitution ring here! I'm not a pimp," he added, his eyes involuntarily darting toward the corner of the office where his father's snake head cane stood in an otherwise-empty umbrella stand. "Thingie and Doodad are  _not_  my employees, though I have helped them find temporary employment with other wizarding households." He sneered. "After your stupid law passed, I realized that while house-elves now need paid employment, they have no idea how to go about getting a job. At the same time, wizarding society still goes on, and with it comes high demands." Granger's eyes flashed, but he fixed her with a dead stare. "You may not be aware of this, not having grown up in the magical world, but the obligations and morays of the wizarding world are deeply seated. You simply do not walk out of your social duties without consequence."  
  
Granger had stiffened when he first mentioned her background, but when he hadn't used any insults, she'd relaxed slightly. She'd even blushed a bit as she listened and he found himself enjoying the tone it gave her cheeks.  _She's cute when she blushes,_  hinted a sudden, wicked little thought. He squelched it and continued. "If you'll have a seat, I'll explain to you, Madam Ministry Official, how my agency helps house-elf and wizard relations prosper." He cast a charm at a nearby filing cabinet, which obediently opened and allowed several ledgers to float out and land gracefully on the desk in front of him.  
  
Granger stepped forward and sat, a bit awkwardly, in the guest chair nearest the desk, but the tone in her voice was genuinely curious. "Please tell me, Malfoy," she said. "Tell me about your temp agency for house-elves."  
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
When all was said and done, it hadn't gone too badly, Draco reflected. He'd been concise in his explanations of how the agency was run. Unemployed house-elves listed their names with him. His agency maintained a running calendar of upcoming events, parties and other gatherings that various wizarding families would tell him about, and he matched up the elves with the clients, being careful to keep house-elves away from their former Death Eater masters until their Ministry-mandated separation periods had ended. The elves helped the events run smoothly and were paid an appropriate fee for their services.   
  
"It's simple enough, really," he'd concluded. The agency took a modest cut, enough to pay the rent for the room and to cover Owl Post costs and owl treats. The rest of the money went to the elves. "That's the honest wage that your law insists be paid to them," he'd said teasingly, without any bite in the words. Granger had coloured up again at that. She hadn't risen to the bait, however, but had instead drawn the ledgers towards her and had quickly gone through them.  
  
Draco hadn't been worried. Everything was transparent. The agency existed to help the house-elves. Granger had deemed his business to be legitimate, though her face and tone remained a bit sceptical. He couldn't really blame her, he supposed. He had been rather a prat in their younger days. He'd escorted her to the door and she'd gone readily enough, especially after the three elves in attendance had all exclaimed to her how wonderful the agency had been to them, and how glad they were to have Mister Draco looking out for them. He noticed that she'd noted the "Mister," smiling as she heard it.   
  
Finally, seeing that the elves were being treated well, Granger left with an air of satisfaction and a final, swotty admonition that he was to be careful not to employ Thingie or Doodad or contact them outside of agency business until December 1.  
  
Draco closed the door behind her with a sigh of relief. Then he turned around, rubbing his hands together with purpose.   
  
"All that talking has made me peckish. Who would like to make me a sandwich?"  
  
"Me, me, me!" came a chorus of voices.   
  
"One Galleon, please," he said, and the nearest elf brandished a heavy gold coin at him. "Sold!" Draco affirmed, pocketing the money. "Blinkey, please make me a sandwich the likes of which I've never seen." Blinkey nodded vigorously and disappeared into the back of the flat.  
  
"Who wants to give me a massage?" Draco asked next. "Five Galleons will allow you to rub my shoulders for half an hour."   
  
"I will, I will! Noddy will do it!" cried an elf obviously named Noddy. Draco chuckled as Noddy pulled out the sock he'd been given upon his freedom day, and extracted five fluffy, linty Galleon coins from the toe. He handed them to Draco, motioned for him to sit down, and vehemently began to massage the muscles in his aching shoulders and back.  
  
"Ahh, that's wonderful," Draco groaned. "You really know how to help a man feel better, Noddy," he said. Then he opened his eyes. Winky was cowering near his feet, which he'd propped on a footstool.  
  
"Please, sir, is, is there anything Winky can do? Winky is a good elf, Master." She hiccupped. "I mean,  _Mister_  Draco," she stammered.   
  
Draco grinned at her. "You may call me 'Master', Winky, if you feel better saying it. How about rubbing my feet? It's only four Galleons for that task. You have such a knack for making them feel refreshed."   
  
Winky's eyes lit up. "Oh yes please, Mist- Master Draco!" Yanking Galleons out of her apron pocket, she practically threw the coins at him, and she eagerly began to reach for Draco's socks. He caught the coins easily – thank Merlin for Seeker skills – then he held up a finger to stop her, which she instantly obeyed.  
  
"But first, Winky, you must give me the bottle you have in your pocket," he said gently.   
  
Winky hesitated, but she slowly reached a hand into her apron and pulled out a half-empty bottle of Butterbeer. She gave it to Draco, who promptly Vanished it. He then took Winky's hand and looked her right in the eye. "You don't need that any more, remember? You are a good house-elf."  
  
Winky's huge brown eyes filled with tears, but she smiled hugely and pulled Draco's socks off of his feet. She began to rub them, saying, "Yes, yes, Master Draco! Thank you, Master Draco. I is a good house-elf! I is!"   
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
_Dear Malfoy,  
The house-elves are very happy with your temp agency. I must say I'm rather impressed. Your books will need a more thorough review, however, before year's end.   
\- Hermione Granger  
  
Granger,  
I'm not surprised. I do good service by them, and they appreciate it.   
– DM   
P.S. You have rather nice handwriting. Penmanship Charm?  
P.P.S. My books? I have shelves full of them. Surely you noticed them when you came to the office the first time. What more is there to see? I've arranged them exactly how I like them, thanks awfully.  
  
Malfoy,   
That's not what I meant about the elves. All of them are happier, not just a few individuals. I haven't seen any particularly despondent house-elves come through our doors in a good few weeks, now. You must be doing something right. Perhaps you've found the magic formula for elf happiness?   
\- Hermione Granger  
P.S. As for your books, you know very well that I meant your account books. The Ministry needs to see that you are a legitimate business after all.  
P.P.S. My writing is naturally neat. I have no need for Penmanship Charms.  
  
Granger,   
Of course the elves are happy. They are able to do what they most want in life: serve others. They get to do a good job and help others at the same time. Haven't you realized yet that that's all they wanted in the first place? I thought I explained this.  
– DM  
P.S. Why can't you Ministry officials just leave well enough alone? The agency is  bona fide, and I'm helping the elves and the wizarding community both in one fell swoop.  
P.P.S. Naturally neat? That figures.  
  
Malfoy,   
I don't understand why anyone's lifelong dream would be to serve others. What with all the freedom the house-elves have at their disposal, why are they choosing to be servants?   
– Yours, Hermione Granger   
P.S. The audit is a mere formality. You don't need to worry, if you have nothing to worry about. P.P.S. Thingie and Doodad send their love, and are looking forward to working with you again. They tell me they've enjoyed working for the Weasley Twins, but they miss making you your lemon tarts.  
  
Granger,   
Thanks awfully. With your reassurance about the audit, I feel ever so comforted, knowing I don't need to worry. After all, the Ministry only took my home and my family's money away, and threw my father into Azkaban. What could I possibly need to fear them for?   
\- Draco Malfoy  
  
Draco -   
I'm sorry. I was thoughtless in my statement in my earlier letter. I only meant that we won't be prying deeply into your personal life. We just need to have an official accounting of how your agency runs and be certain the elves are being paid a fair wage. I understand your reluctance and your mistrust of Ministry officials. If you like, I will do the audit personally - unless perhaps I'm the one you particularly mistrust?  
\- Hermione  
  
Hermione,   
I would prefer that you do the audit yourself. Thank you for offering.  
\- Draco  
  
Draco,  
Of course. I'll personally take charge of examining your books. I will send you further details on when to expect me.   
Happy Christmas,  
Hermione   
P.S. You do realize your father's own actions are what put him in Azkaban, don't you? It wasn't the Ministry's fault he chose to do the things he did.  
  
Granger,   
Nice postscript. And here I was beginning to think you weren't so bad after all. You really haven't learned when to shut up, have you? Will you, ever?   
\- DM  
  
Draco -   
I'm so sorry, Draco. I spoke without thinking and it was a terribly rude and hurtful thing to say. Please forgive me.   
Yours,  
Hermione  
P.S. I made these biscuits myself. I hope you like them.  
P.P.S. I will be coming to your offices during the week of the 15th. Thingie and Doodad will be coming too. Your separation period will be over by then.  
  
Hermione,  
The choco chip biscuits were rather tasty. Not quite up to the standards of Thingie and Doodad, but pleasing enough to the palate.   
You are somewhat forgiven.  
\- Draco_   
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
Draco Malfoy was full of Christmas spirit. He'd finally saved enough to be able to buy his mother a new wand. They'd gone to Ollivanders the day before, and she'd found one quite quickly. Draco had paid the old wand-maker twice what his asking price was, and had requested an additional empty wand box, saying simply that he'd lost his own wand's packaging years ago and wanted one for his own use.  
  
Now, in the small kitchen of the flat that was now his new home as well as his office, Draco put the finishing touches on the gift he was wrapping. Inside was the vine wood wand, whose rightful owner was a brave Gryffindor Muggle-born, the swotty, pain in the arse, but rather attractive, compassionate, and possessed of beautiful handwriting, one-and-only Hermione Granger.   
  
He examined the package with a critical eye, adjusted the color of the ribbon slightly with a stroke of his wand, and then stood back.  
  
"There," he said. "It's finished. Do you think she'll like it?" he asked Winky, who had supervised as he wrapped. The little house-elf nodded.  
  
"Oh yesses, Master Draco! Missy Granger will likes it very much!" She bobbed a curtsey in her excitement.  
  
"That's sorted, then!" Draco clapped his hands together. "Now, Winky, would you be so good as to run me a bath? Miss Granger will be here soon and I'd like to clean up before she arrives."  
  
Winky nodded happily and went to draw Draco's bath.   
  
He picked up the gift and smiled as he slowly followed the little elf. She'd changed these past few months. She wasn't sneaking Butterbeers to drink at night anymore, and she was so happy she seemed to float in place. It was a heartening sight. What was more, Thingie and Doodad were coming home today.  
  
Butterflies were rioting in his stomach. It had to be from the excitement of having his friends finally come home to stay. The butterflies couldn't possibly exist because Hermione Granger would be escorting them. Could they? She was just Granger. Certainly, they'd exchanged letters often in the last few weeks, and she'd stopped in at the agency to "check on things" several times. They always seemed to spend several hours talking during those visits. But this was just going to be a simple, official audit of his books.  
  
Wasn't it?  
  
Of course, he was excited to see her reaction when she opened her gift. He couldn't wait to watch her eyes light up when she touched her own wand again…  
  
 _By Salazar's rod, I fancy Hermione Granger!_  Instead of being horrified at the thought, he felt a wide grin spread across his face.  _Well, in for a Knut, in for a Galleon, as the old saying goes._  
  
"Winky? Would you like to prepare a meal for Miss Granger and me tonight?"  
  
"Yes, yes! Winky is a good cook! How much would it cost, Master Draco?"   
  
Draco laughed. "For you, it will be twelve Galleons. Can you manage that?"  
  
Winky bounced up and down. "Yes, yes, but Winky must goes to Gringotts to get Winky's saved money, Master. Winky be back soon-quick to cook!" With that, she Disapparated.  
  
Chuckling, Draco stepped into the steam-filled bathroom. It was fragrant with cinnamon and nutmeg - Christmassy smells. As he stripped off his clothes and stepped into the big, clawfoot tub, he realized that he'd probably end up smelling like a Christmas pudding. He sank into the hot, bubble-filled water with a smirk, wondering if Granger might like to have a taste...  
  
Blushing at the thought, he began to scrub himself all over with the washcloth and soap.  
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
"Helloooo," called Hermione as she entered the agency's office, Thingie and Doodad following eagerly behind her. The room was empty, which was unusual. Most days she'd been here in the last few weeks, there had been several elves around.   
  
"Hello? Is anyone here?"  
  
A voice called from a nearby room. "Granger? Is that you?"  
  
"Yes, Draco, it's me. I'm here to do the audit, and I've brought someone with me," she added. Thingie and Doodad were already running off in the direction of the voice.   
  
"I'll be with you shortly," called Draco. "Just start without me. The ledgers are on the desk–Thingie and Doodad! I'm so glad to see you!"  
  
Hermione smiled at the sounds of their happy reunion, and noticed the red books helpfully set out on the desk blotter. She sat down to work.   
  
She rapidly worked her way through the three slim volumes. All was in order, each elf's name carefully documented with the jobs he or she had performed and the amount of money earned. The agency's small cut was also cited. Overall, everything looked perfectly aboveboard.   
  
Hermione shut the final ledger with a sigh, happy to see that Malfoy had found something that he was good at that was also legal and helpful to others. She marvelled at that, thinking he'd always seemed such a clever young man in school, but had been lazy, selfish, and unwilling to apply himself fully to his work. Until their sixth year, at any rate.  
  
Shaking her head to clear away those unpleasant memories, Hermione looked around at the decor. The place was still tastefully decorated, but now felt almost like a home. She frowned. Was Malfoy living here now? How was that possible? He didn't take in nearly enough through the agency to be able to afford living quarters here in Diagon Alley. She flipped one of the ledgers open again to check the figures. No, there just wasn't enough income for the agency itself to support Draco alone. It didn't make sense.   
  
She closed the book again and a piece of parchment slid out of the back. It was an official form from the Ministry of Magic's Wizarding Business Registration office, dated in June. It read:  
  


_The House-Elf Temporary Elf and Master Placement (T.E.M.P.) Agency  
\- Established June 15, 1999 by Draco Lucius Malfoy_

  
  
As she was mulling this over, there was a great CRACK and Winky appeared, clutching two handfuls of gold Galleons and a huge basket full of various food items. It was so full she was in danger of falling over. The excited little elf didn't see Hermione and called out, "Winky has the money, Master Draco! Twelve Galleons for you, and I's be cooking you a big fancy meal, I is!"  
  
 _"What?!"_  shrieked Hermione. "What did you say? Galleons for  _Master_  Draco?"  
  


**~ * ~ * ~**

  
  
Draco was listening raptly to Thingie regaling him with tales of her past few months' activities when the bathroom door was slammed open by a furious, bushy-haired, angry witch. "Draco Lucius Malfoy!"  
  
Doodad, who had been scrubbing Draco's back, yelped and snapped his fingers to conjure a towel.  
  
"Youse need to be leaving, Missy Hermione! Youse can't be in here when Master Draco is bathing!" Thingie cried, trying to shield Draco from view. "He's nude! You can't!"  
  
Hermione stood with her hands on her hips, anger colouring her vision. She couldn't believe the nerve of this ferrety, no–good…  
  
"You make the elves  _pay_  to do your chores?! To cook your  _meals_? To  _bathe_  you?" she shouted.   
  
Draco sighed, and began to stand up from the bath. Hermione realized what he was doing just as he breached the surface of the water. She hurriedly averted her gaze. Thank goodness for bubble baths, she thought, as out of the corner of her eye she watched Draco wrap the towel around himself. It really wasn't a very big towel, she noted.  
  
He got out of the tub and stood beside it, dripping nonchalantly on the tiles. He didn't seem at all bothered by his lack of clothing. And oh, there was so much lack, she thought. She knew she was blushing. She didn't think her face could get any hotter.   
  
Draco, who had gained some weight and become much fitter since the war ended, crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the high side of the tub, smirking. "Yes, Granger. The elves pay to do things for me. What's wrong with that?"   
"It defeats the whole purpose of their being freed," she spluttered, forgetting herself in her renewed indignation and staring directly at him. "Of their being paid!"  
  
"How, Granger?" Draco asked. "Just how does it defeat the purpose? After all, what else are they going to spend their money on?"  
  
Hermione stammered, "Well, housing, of course! Food, clothing…"  
  
"But why? They had homes. They had food. They had everything they needed, before H.E.R.L. was passed."  
  
"They didn't have self-respect!" snapped Hermione, frustrated.  
  
"They most certainly did!" retorted Draco, taking a step toward her. "They prided themselves on being good servants, on doing an excellent job for the wizarding families they served. The law freed them, yes, but they were left without any knowledge of how to fend for themselves. They were magical creatures in a magical world where suddenly they weren't allowed to do what they've always done. What were they to do? When they lost that integral part of their lives, they lost themselves," he said. He held a hand out to Winky, who'd come into the room behind Hermione and was pulling on her own ears in fear and worry. "Winky," he said, in such a gentle voice that Hermione herself felt soothed. "Please start dinner. I'm looking forward to your shepherd's pie."  
  
Winky looked hesitantly in Hermione's direction. Draco nodded. "Yes, please fix a meal for two. Miss Granger will be joining me."   
  
"Yes, Master Draco!" Winky gulped, and with great relief, she hurried from the room.  
  
Hermione started to speak, but Draco held up a finger. "Shhh. Remember how Winky was after she was set free? Remember?" Hermione stopped. She did remember, all too well, seeing the little elf in the kitchens at Hogwarts more than a year after the Quidditch World Cup incident. Winky had been a wreck: dirty, sick, and – drunk on Butterbeer.   
  
"The Butterbeer shortages," she breathed, closing her eyes in mortification. "Of course! The depressed house-elves have been drinking it all."  
  
"Uh huh. I see you've finally fit those puzzle pieces together," Draco said.   
  
"Winky's so much happier now. She's like a completely different elf," Hermione said, shaking her head at her own one-sided, narrow thinking. She opened her eyes. "I've been a fool not to see it. I only wanted to help them," she began, but stuttered to a halt when she realized how close Draco was standing. He smirked as he looked down at her, enjoying her embarrassment, and he raised one arm as he leaned still closer. She caught her breath and lifted her chin involuntarily, but his arm only lightly grazed against her as he took his bathrobe from the hook behind the door. Hermione felt rather disappointed as he shrugged into the thick terrycloth robe and tied its sash.  
  
"Are my books in order?" he asked, as he finished the knot. Hermione nodded mutely, her eyes drawn to the vee of skin showing at his neckline. "Then have dinner with me," he said. It seemed a bold demand, but the barest hint of a raised eyebrow let Hermione see Draco's slight uncertainty of her reaction.  
  
"Dinner with you? Tonight?" she asked, numbly.  
  
"Yes. Tonight. Now. Well, in a few minutes. After I've dressed for it," he added with a wink. "I have something for you, and I think perhaps you are ready to hear more about the wizarding side of the house-elf and wizarding world symbiotic relationship."  
  
Hermione smiled. "Those are big words, Malfoy." Doodad came in just then with his arms full of clothing for Draco.  
  
"That's not all that's big around here, Hermione," drawled Draco. She swallowed hard.  
  
"I'll, um, I'll just wait in the living room. Your office. Your, um, the living office," she stammered as she hurried out. Draco's chuckle followed her. He dressed quickly and then picked up the gift-wrapped box he had set beside the nearby sink. He was looking forward to giving her back her wand.   
  
"Today is a day full of revelations for our Miss Granger," he murmured quietly, running his thumb over the ribbon. "Plenty of surprises for the bushy-haired Muggle-born."  
  
Doodad fussed over Draco, smoothing his green jumper and brushing the wrinkles out of his khaki trousers. "She is not being a bad witch," he commented as he worked.  
  
"No," Draco agreed. "She's not. She's just in need of guidance. I think she'll come around, with teaching." He grinned down at his old friend, servant, and companion. "Care to help me with that, Doodad?"  
  
"Doodad and Thingie will both help you teach Missy Granger, Master Draco," said the elf. "We will gladly pay to enlighten her."  
  
Draco was impressed. "That's a two Galleon word at the very least, Doodad." He smiled as Doodad produced two of the large, gold coins. They clinked together as he and pressed them into Draco's palm.   
  
"When do we start the first lesson, Master Draco?" the elf asked, grinning.  
  
"Now," replied Draco, and he opened the door to the living room. As he stepped out, gift in hand, he said, "Happy Christmas, Granger."  
  
 _ **~FIN~**_


End file.
